


The Grace of Love and Despair

by Komorebiwalk



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Angst, Despair, Free Verse, M/M, Metaphor, Murshid and Murid, Separation, Yearning, lovers lament, multiple POVs, poem, poetic verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komorebiwalk/pseuds/Komorebiwalk
Summary: Love can't be left abandoned. Lovers indiscriminate of their gender, religion, race feel the pain of separation not less than others.Narrating the awaiting, the lack of passion in times of separation from the perspectives of two lovers, existing in different eras. But the pain and yearning they bear in their hearts remain the same.For this chapter, Kamali's verses are in Italics and Aman's are in normal fonts.
Relationships: Jamali/Kamali, Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Separation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashley2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley2011/gifts).



_Cold wind severs my soul_

_As I shiver under the shrine_

_With frosted breath._

_I see a shooting star_

_Cutting the vein of the evening sky._

_...Murshid, where have you gone?_

The more I head the more

I find my limbs 

Too numb and frigid.

The shrill cry of silence stuff my ears.

Through a road full of raven's feathers

... Am I supposed to walk alone?

_I see the place_

_High above the hill_

_" Up there, my dear Kamali_

_The way Radha's heart_

_Syncs with Krishna's bansuri_

_We will cherish_

_The songs of love and despair._

_With you, my Murid_

_I will be buried there, forever ",_

_You told me once, Shaikh..._

_Have you forgotten, lord?_

_" I_ hear the ripples whispering

When you bury

Your breeze caressed face

Against my chest.

Aman, my precious, look at the Sangam.

It worships our love, witnesses our passion

As it witnessed love for thousands of years.

We will get the moksh

We will bathe together

Where the sacred rivers reunite.

Bearing the dust of holy Prayag

I am taking oath"...

The oath is forlorn.

I am deserted.

_It's the place where_

_We used to chant namaz together_

_We used to watch the Vaishnavas_

_Singing chorals._

_The marble steps_

_Felt too warm...with your touch._

_Now_

_I sit here with trembling knees_

_As my own cold breath_

_Cuts deeper_

_than poisoned daggers._

Under the tree

Under the shed

Over the bed of velvet green grass

We laid...

The falling leaves of banyan 

Along with your breath

Adored me to sleep...

Now

The lullaby is gone.

I stand here with my soul

Deavoured

Scorched.

_' Shaikh Jamali has returned!'_

_The city will rojoice._

_You will be there_

_Sorrounded by halka._

_Among thousands of offerings_

_You will see a garland_

_Of blackened_

_Withered_

_Tainted_

_Blue lotus..._

_Would you take?_

_Or smash it away?_

If I am forlorn, who will be remembered?

If I am sullied, who will be revered?

If your footfalls are for everyone but me

Let the fate decide my journey.

The coward heart 

That despised death

Is now screaming...craving...

The way a hyena searches for hunt.

Will you come or

My heart will embrace 

It's old hatred?

_The blood red gushes of Yamuna_

_Makes me pyromaniac_

_As death crawls to my feet_

_I see a figure_

_Dark and deep_

_Forming a pyre_

_" fanafullah!"_

_He screams..._

_Murshid, take my life away_

_The way you take the cat eye_

_Out of your Haidar._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! If interested, you may read the book named ' Jamali- Kamali : A Tale of passion in Mughal India' by Karen chase ( Yes it inspired me to write this fic) If you love books on historical fiction , this book is a must read :)


	2. Subdued Epistle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here Kamali reminisces the time when they were inseparable from each-other, before the irony of fate crawled into their path. Kamali reads the old letters from Jamali when he was in Sultan's Mahal for days and used to satire their impatience and love-sickness being completely unable to predict the harsh future. Kamali at last laments how his own dreams and longings are smashed away by fate in a metaphorical way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, Jamali's letters are in italics and Kamali's are in bold italics.

_"You see the limestone path?_   
_footsteps from darga and temple_

_meet here_   
_little grasses rejuvenate_   
_everytime they are smashed away_   
_the way our ancestors lived_   
_Hault, stand upon the white stepping stone_   
_Here the present meets the past_   
_To the days when you cried,_   
_the stones are the broken eggs of roc!_   
_You would argue and I-_   
_...is the memory out of enclosure?_   
_Here, take my hand, I will show you the path_   
_Ascend the steps and let your eyelids meet your lashes_

  
_Stone bench, high above the hill_   
_Feast the eyes with mustard field beneath_   
_The wind crossing, it's sharp angles hurt_   
_Till your arms are stretched_   
_the way the peahens rejoices the rain_   
_I huddle towards you_   
_smashing me among your guts._

_Your eyes travel through my psyche_   
_The wind comes as breeze_   
_too gentle but aimed_   
_Remember the last time we came?_   
_You pushed me and I was confused_   
_Now I hear the saplings whispering_   
_gossiping wittily about my flippancy_

_You are so still, so silent..._   
_Why?_   
_Don't you know your rantipole thoughts_   
_severs the strings of my soul?_

  
_Rest your eyes upon the golden field beneath_   
_the rude thrusts of rain? No, we won't follow this path_   
_through the tender mud bed_   
_we will make our way_   
_the raindrops, not so agile_   
_will guide us the way_   
_it tip-toed to the lake_

_The road is so slippery_   
_I won't stretch my hands_   
_You may hold my innate_   
_as your instinct inclines_

_Hold me. I am here._   
_Touch me. I am lost._

_Wind caressing your face, neck and breast_   
_I am a quirk known for its patience_   
_...rivalry with wind?_   
_not a healthy showdown_

_On the lake side, upon the grass bed_   
_germinates the songs of arcane_   
_Here we lay, here we whisper_   
_with our sprights entwined_

_These days are passing so rough, my friend_

_The camphor doesn't burn like_

_I am ashing away for you_

  
_I am writing the second letter_   
_Heard you drove the messanger out?_   
_Sheer clever you are_   
_Indeed_   
_May my letters grow the wings of seagulls_   
_getting high above the sky_   
_getting remoter time to time_   
_from now_

_What do you say? My anger...is?_   
_Impertinent?_

_whatever.._   
_May I question you a dream?_   
_or you must answer_

_I dreamt of a dinghy..._   
_Sailing through Yamuna_   
_Or..it was the dinghy that sailed me?_

_It sailed with the rhythms_   
_On which I can make rhymes_

_I took the steer in my hands_   
_tired to manovoeuve_   
_but all went in vain_

_With every new splash_   
_the boat shivered with vigour_

  
_I was half lost. I was half-aware_

  
_Soon, we meet the end...of।the voyage_   
_I dipped my fingers into the water_   
_It made my arms chill, shook my spine_

_The bank was shown_   
_I know I was close_   
_I get down to the land_   
_as I titillated the boat_   
_at the last.._

_Is it aberrant?_   
_So I am_   
_So the ambiance when the mist embarked on_   
_Clearing the mist , as I looked through it-_   
_The tinged water of Yamuna flows by_   
_The heavy dark shadows_   
_play witchcraft_

_...as the sky arches with serene afterglow..._   
_the horizon bears the adorned sigh..._

_As my quill strikes this paper_   
_with not so pressure_   
_but alluring demand_

_I ask you my question, I ask you my dream..._

_...what was the mist, the boat, the Yamuna bank?..._

_the memories strike as they endeavour you..."_

_**The slaughter even has mercy on the goat** _

_**It is set free** _

_**It jumps, it shakes** _

_**Takes the fragrance of the new grassy field** _

_**It allures nannies** _

_**Two... three...four...** _

_**It's desire burns more than the** _

_**Flames that reddens the cauldron** _


End file.
